Page 13 of Wild Peak

Well.

My forehead thunks gently against the wood, and I groan.

What a mess.

Seven

Brooke

This is the most embarrassing day of my life.

First falling like that in front of Hunter at the peak, tumbling head over heels and landing in a pathetic, scuffed up heap. So clumsy and humiliating.

Then throwing myself into the arms of my brother’s best friend, the man I’ve pined after for so long, and kissing him with all my inexperienced fervor. Hunter didn’t say anything about it clearly being my first kiss, but I bet he was privately thinking it. Because that brings us to humiliation number two: throwing myself at the guy I’ve been low key saving myself for, ready to give himeverything, only to be roundly rejected in favor of a fold out bed and an early ride home in the morning.

And then the lowest point of all: that outburst. Those shrill, butt-hurt words. The red face and damp eyes and oh god, I am never getting out of this shower. Gonna drown myself in here, or stuff myself down the drain.

Why did I say all that stuff?

Why did I confess about how much I’ve missed him, when Hunter clearly hasn’t spared a single thought for me in years?

Why did I melt down like that over a guy who can’t wait to be rid of me?

It’s fine, I tell myself, scrubbing my body down with a bar of soap. All the dirt and sweat and dried blood of the day sluices off me, gurgling down the drain. Good riddance.He’s allowed to not want you back. You’ll be fine without him. Just fine.

But my heart aches like crazy all the same.

It’s wrong to use up all Hunter’s hot water, but I linger in the shower and scrub every inch of my body, then shampoo my hair twice. There’s no conditioner, but his soap and shampoo both smell so good. Like herbs and citrus and sunshine. Likehim.

By the time I hobble out in a cloud of scented steam, my bandages are all soaked through and ruined, and my bubble of self-righteous anger has popped. Now, I feel like a tiny, ungrateful little grub.

There’s a mirror above the sink in Hunter’s bathroom, fogged over with steam. After bundling myself up in the spare towel, I swipe a hand across the glass and scowl at my own bedraggled reflection.

“Be cool,” I whisper, giving myself the stink eye. “He’s doing you a huge favor.”

Because Hunter saved me from my fall, carried me halfway down the mountainside, bandaged me up, then offered me dinner and shelter for the night. Whether or not he wants me romantically is irrelevant. I’ve been a huge freaking brat, and now it’s time to woman-up and apologize.

The cabin is quiet when I crack the bathroom door open. It’s empty. There’s no sign of Hunter, but there’s a pile of clean clothes on the floor just outside. A pale green men’s t-shirt, the cotton soft and worn with age, and a pair of gray sweatpants.

Snatching up the clothes, I scuttle back inside and get dressed, then finger comb my hair and squeeze most of the water from it. I only bang my hip on the counter twice while I’m dressing, too.

The clothes are big on me, except for around my thighs and hips where my body presses against the sweatpants. The neckline of the cotton t-shirt smells like Hunter, so I hide from reality for a few minutes longer, nose buried in the fabric. Sucking in his scent.

Get out there, you coward.

Ugh, fine. Swallowing what’s left of my pride, I hobble back out of the bathroom.

The cabin is still empty, with golden evening light spilling through the windows. Hunter’s furniture is all carved wood, simple and sturdy, apart from a comfy-looking green sofa and armchair set. There’s a black and white woven rug on the floor and a crammed bookcase. The whole bottom two shelves are filled with cookbooks.

The air smells like nutmeg and polished wood. There are lamps; crocheted blankets; a record player with a stack of vinyl. It’s cozy. A home.

My heart gives another almighty twist.

It’s not at all how I pictured ‘living in the wilderness’ would be, but hey. I’m glad Hunter is comfortable up here, even after everything. Even if I never step foot here again.

The floorboards creak softly as I limp across the cabin, gazing around me like a tourist in a museum. Soaking up every artifact and detail. The buttery sunshine; the scent of spring blossom blowing in through an open window; a quiet thump as someone moves out on the deck.

Hunter.

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